A Day at the Beach
by Elves Muse
Summary: *SLASH* Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts can mean only one thing- traveling. So when Harry and Draco travel to a tropical island, will their hidden feelings be revealed?


For Cait.

Swaying slowly back and forth on his magically-conjured cot, Harry Potter sipped on a mixed drink. He was sporting only a pair of black swimming trunks, and a light layer of sun cream over his already bronzed skin. 

"You know," he started aloud when he was nearly finished drinking from the rose glass in hand. "These little umbrella things are very..." A pause. "Cute." Between his long index finger and thumb, Harry began to twirl the said 'little umbrella' like a parasol.

Overhead, a horseshoe of luscious palm trees blocked him from the tropical sun, and yet gave him a fantastic view of the island's beach. The canopy let through a shimmering green glow that turned his eye color from jade to emerald. A light breeze off the ocean uplifted his hair away from his face, as the blue waves reached their peak before crashing down in a swirl of white foam.

A real paradise island.

A short, sardonic laugh came from beyond the foliage. "You _would_ think the umbrella in an alcoholic drink was cute, Potter." Draco Malfoy stepped out, wearing nothing but an obscene amount of sun screen and a pair of green boxer shorts. Even as he walked up, Harry shifted his body so that they both could sit on the cot comfortably. Their eyes met amid the heavily charged electricity of the air, unburdened by the usual pair of sunglasses worn in this setting. Underneath the natural awning of the palm trees, however, the eyewear wasn't necessary.

The seventh year students at Hogwarts (or, at least, some of them) had the privilege of taking a short trip with their Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Arabella Figg, to a tropical island somewhere in the Pacific. Once there, the students were expected to go off in teams to make short work of the magical creatures there, placed for their training purposes only. Harry and Draco had been put on a team. Hermione Granger had gone with Seamus Finnigan on another. Ron Weasley hadn't come along, as he wasn't in Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Thankfully, Arabella had been courteous enough to let them shed their overweight and terribly warm school uniforms, letting them go free in either a swimsuit, or in the boy's case, boxer shorts. As long as they wore protection from the sun, they had the privilege; no one wants to return to the castle with sunburn. 

The rules for the training, however, were very specific. Take care of the monsters in your area, then wait for the Professor to find you. Do not assist with any other teams, or wander outside your area until you are finished. For safety reasons, of course. Harry and Draco had already dispatched all of their 'charges' hours ago. It was, in fact, all too easy for them.

"You never did tell me where you got these drinks anyway, Malfoy. How do I know that you didn't poison them?" Harry grinned, looking almost at ease despite the high tension. The blond boy laughed. 

  
"After all we've been through, Potter, you're still questioning my ways." He sat down on the cot, putting a hand about Harry's waist, just a stab to pull them down together on the makeshift bed. It worked. With a wicked grin, Draco took the glass (and the little red umbrella) and set it down on the ground. Finishing off with a small wave of his hand, the cot began to sway from a spectacular display of wandless magic. 

Harry immediately curled his body about his playfellow, smoothing back the blond tresses from the crystalline eyes that seemed to pierce his very soul. He decided, at that very moment, that he could spend hours like this. Warmed by Draco's body, cooled by the soft breeze still upsetting his hair... The only problem was their limited schedule here. By this time, no doubt, all the pairs were finishing up. Which meant Arabella would be coming around to collect them for the Portkey back to Hogsmeade. 

And then it would be back to pretending that there was nothing between them. Staged fights in the hallway, fierce Quidditch matches... the list went on and on. 

"You know," Draco murmured as he gazed evenly back into his eyes. "I hate the tropics. Too sunny, hot, and it makes me look like a ghost with all the tan people about. I could live forever in winter."

Harry grinned, moving his fingers down to Draco's chest. "Is that so?"

"Yes, it is. Snow compliments my skin." He covered the hand with his own. "Besides, who needs heat when I've got my very own warm body next to me? Bring on a blizzard. I'm content." 

Swaying back and forth like that was comforting. The silence was punctured only by the gentle hum of the ocean, random chirping of tropical birds, and a smooth rustling of leaves. And Harry smiled. There was, quite possibly, no other place that he would rather be. 

But just as Harry laid his head on Draco's shoulder, a twig snapped from somewhere in the jungle. The blond boy clambered out of the embrace regrettably, but gracefully, and leaned against a random tree with his arms crossed about his chest. Upon his face was now a mask of plain hatred for Harry, watching his every movement with a sneer. 

Harry himself was laying back in the cot comfortably, hands behind his head. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. 

However unfortunate it was, both of them were used to covering up their feelings at the mere movement of a shadow. An extra precaution, but not an unnecessary one, considering who they were.

Suddenly, Harry groaned, remembering too late about the small glass in the sand. But before he could move, someone stepped through the bush.

Hermione. 

"Harry!" She cooed, walking over to sit beside him and give a quick peck on the cheek. "Wake up, lovely." Seamus followed closely, glanced at his former partner, and walked over to Draco.

"Draco!" He cooed, leaning forward to attempt at a kiss. It was refused. He sighed dramatically and brought up his leopard print boxers, which were sliding dangerously down his waist. 

"Stay away from me, Finnigan," Draco growled, wiping off his cheek. "I don't want to catch fleas." Hermione turned back to Draco with a frown. 

"That's not necessary, Malfoy. Was just a bit of fun, right Seamus?" She gave one of her rare smiles that brightened her brown eyes to hazel, meeting Seamus's gaze as he smirked at her. Then she turned back to Harry, smoothing back his hair. Draco glowered at her, but if anyone saw, they would say it was because of her reprieve.

They would be wrong.

"Harry, love, wake up." Hermione, in her light blue one-piece bathing suit, pinched his cheek. When Harry stirred and saw her, he feinted a stretch.

"Herm."

Draco coughed and left the scene, walking down to the beach to sit and let the water touch his feet. Seamus blushed, the color hiding his light splattering of freckles. as he sauntered to another part of the jungle to sit and wait. No one liked these mushy moments except the people who were experiencing them.

"Harry," Hermione laid down next to him, much in the same position that Draco had been. As she draped an arm about his chest, she grinned again. "How was it? I take it things went well."

"He kept pretty much to himself," Harry shrugged, yawning. "We got the assignment done in almost record time."

"How long were you waiting here?" She leaned in for a soft kiss. Harry shifted to his side and entangled their fingers, making an effort to sound aloof about the subject.

"Not long. I decided to take a nap; just worn down, I guess."

"Weren't you worried about-" suddenly, Seamus hopped back in. His shorts were loose again. 

"Hey, love birds, Figg is ready. We're supposed to meet on the beach." He winked at Hermione, then trotted back, swearing loudly when he stepped on a shell with his bare feet. 

Harry helped Hermione up, then slid out of the cot. He started to magic it away, when Hermione's eyes caught the glass. "Harry," she started. "What's this?"

"It was there," Harry said, picking it up with a curious gaze on his face. "You know I don't know how to conjure drinks." With his girlfriend's skeptical look, he didn't think she believed him. After what seemed an eternity, she shrugged.

"Well, it doesn't matter. Professor Figg is down there already, anyway. Let's go." She tossed away the glass, took his hand, and dragged him down, being careful to avoid the rock that Seamus had come upon on.

Once down there, they joined the circle that the students had formed. Draco was across from them, having got up from his seat, and was now next to Pansy Parkinson. She was wearing a low-cut, two-piece green suit that left very little to the imagination, and was clutching at him as if they were alone in a hotel. He pretended to enjoy the attention, but all the while he was secretly staring at Harry with jealous eyes. 

Hermione looked on in disgust. Then she took Harry's hand, and as if to prove how a _real_ girlfriend should act, Hermione stood there patiently. Seamus glanced between the two couples and grinned, pulling up his shorts again.

"For Merlin's sake, Finnigan! Do something about your problem!" Arabella Figg strode onto the scene, wearing her full robes (thankfully). Seamus immediately tightened the swimming trunks as tightly as they could go.

The ADADA teacher looked around at the twenty-some students, blinking at them as if lost in thought. Then, she smiled. "Oh yes, I remember. 

"Everyone here?" There was a quiet murmuring, before Ernie MacMillian announced that everyone was. Arabella nodded, then her smile faded. "I'm slightly disappointed in the progress made today. The pairs I chose were supposed to raise productivity, not lower it." Her gaze landed upon Pansy. "I'm afraid some of you got a bit side-tracked on the beach." Pansy stuck out her chin in defiance, but across the way, Terry Boot gave an almighty blush. Draco couldn't have looked more apathetic.

"On the other hand," Arabella raised a worn and calloused hand and waved it at Harry, then at Draco. "Some of you made great progress. I have to congratulate Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy for their speedy work; they make a great team." Hermione squeezed Harry's hand, looking up at him with a broad smile. Everyone else just snickered, 'knowing' that they only worked so hard so they could get away from each other.

"Your assignment for the weekend, my little ones, is to write me an essay about your experience. What went well, what went badly, and everything else." A pause, as Arabella gathered her thoughts once again. When she remembered what had been forgotten, the older woman snapped her fingers. "That's it!" She took out a worn Muggle baseball glove- the Portkey.

"Well, I fail to see the reason why we remain on this bloody isle. Let's go back." She then magicked them all into appropriate attire for the winter weather of Hogsmeade, and threw down the glove into the sand. Several students shifted in the heavy outfits, but stepped forward to put a hand on either the Portkey, or a person who was already touching it. Pansy put her hand in a very inappropriate area on Draco, earning an incredulous look from him. 

"What?" She grinned.

"Shush! No talking!" Arabella shouted out, before beginning the countdown. "Three, two, one..."

Then there was that all-too-familiar jerk from behind the navel, bringing them all back to Hogsmeade. 

Upon landing, most of the girls (and guys, for that matter) landed upon their arses. Harry, Draco, and Arabella, though, remained standing. The Gryffindor sent a meaningful look to the Slytherin while everyone was down, then went to help Hermione up. 

It was snowing. And very cold, compared the bliss of the unnamed island. 

The brunette at his feet got up without his hand, and shivered slightly as she gave him a small kiss. The group was dispersing already, as Arabella shouted orders that everyone was to be back at the castle before supper. Then she started going back to the school, no doubt in order to meet with Professor Dumbledore and tell him how it all went.

That left two hours. For free time.

Hermione announced to Harry that she would be going back to the castle for an early start on her report, and asked if he would be joining her.

"No," Harry shook his head. "I think I'll wait here. Have to buy some Quidditch things for the team." He gave her a broad grin, knowing that she wouldn't want to come along for something like that. He was right.  
  
"Oh, Harry, you know I would come along..." She nibbled at her bottom lip with a worried look towards him, wondering if he minded. And no, he didn't, not at all. 

"That's okay, Herm, go ahead. I'll catch up with you and Ron before dinner." He leaned down to give her a kiss, then watched her walk back to the castle by herself, soon afterwards being joined by Seamus. She had such self-confidence, not worrying about anything as trivial as social status.

Harry envied that.

Suddenly, a hand landed on his shoulder softly. As Harry spun around, expecting to see a Weasley, or someone from the Ministry, or even a reporter. It was none of those people.

It was Draco.  


The Boy-Who-Lived was aware of the many pairs of eyes upon him, aware of the students who were watching interestedly. He gave Draco a pointed look, mentally telling him to back off before he had to pull off another mock fight. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt him.

But the blond didn't seem to get the hint. Because, at that moment, Draco grabbed the shorter teen by the cloak and pulled him close, their mouths meeting in a delicious rush.

Everyone gasped, but no one did anything. It was quite a sight to see Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter- bitter, _bitter_ enemies- standing in the middle of Hogsmeade and snogging in the street. Pansy Parkinson had fainted dead away in a random snow bank, and Terry Boot didn't even move to resuscitate her.

Madam Rosemerta even came out from the Three Broomsticks and watched with a small smile on her face. She, of course, had no idea about the history between the two, but thought it was so entirely sweet. The way the other students were staring, it must have been the first public sign of affection. When an angry customer pounded his empty glass on the table, however, she had to turn back inside the dark gloom of the pub and serve.

Harry pulled away first, opening his eyes to the sharp curves of Draco's face. But he didn't step away, oh no. He smiled.

"We're going to get in so much shit, you know." 

Draco grinned as well, hands moved from his shirt to about his waist, where they sat happily entangled. "We could always Obliviate all of them. Say it never happened."

The Gryffindor couldn't help but gaze at him, deliriously happy and content. The background of Draco's face was amazing- frost bitten trees and mounds of snow, icy windows and smoking fireplaces. It all accented his golden, silver hair as it floated about his face, like wisps of cloud upon an Angel's face. And his face... oh, his face. Sharp features with pale skin, no freckles or blemishes, and silver-gray eyes that shone like stars in the midnight sky.

He was right. Snow did compliment his skin.

"Or we could revel in the time we have; flaunt our relationship before the guillotine slams down." 

There wasn't a response, for their lips had met again.


End file.
